It was a very busy weekend, and I was told to pick up a table outside of my section.  A few minutes later I greeted the group of white, well-dressed guests seated at the table.  One of them, an older gentleman, grabbed my arm and said, “There goes your tip! I guess we’ll take you out back and give you 30 lashes.”

I felt my blood begin to boil. I walked away, declining to wait the table. I knew that this refusal would cost me money—but I didn’t want to accept harassment in order to earn a living.

I had a similar experience while working at Denny’s on Christmas Day. The restaurant was completely dead, and the one table I served gave off an impression that they had just had an altercation at a family get-together. The father asked for a steak so rare it was bleeding. When I served it, he took one look and bellowed, “This steak is frozen! How am I supposed to eat that?” He then threw it at my head.

These experiences haven’t happened in isolation. Incidents like these are the kinds of things servers endure to receive a good tip—or any tip at all. Because the federal tipped minimum wage has remained at $2.13 an hour for the past 25 years, servers are more likely than other workers to live in poverty and rely on some form of public assistance to make ends meet. All the while, multi-billion dollar corporations like Darden (the parent company of Olive Garden) get away with their customers or the government making up the difference through tips or public assistance.

Indeed, having your livelihood dependent on tips creates economic instability. Even when I put in the same number of hours from one month to the next, my earnings can differ by hundreds of dollars. If I have a slow week, I have to put off bills and pay late fees that I can’t afford. I often go from feeling like my family is getting by to wondering if the utilities will be turned off.

Working for tips also devalues the labor of people in the service industry. Servers are paid varying amounts every day based on whether someone else thought they deserved to make enough money to pay their bills or feed their children. You can provide great service to a customer, but if he doesn’t want to pay a decent tip, you lose.

I’ve come to this conclusion: Tips are referred to as gratuity for a reason. They are not meant to substitute for an actual wage.

But this isn’t a problem that should be rectified by the restaurant customer. As social media has come into vogue, I’ve started seeing posts about once a week about how a server at a restaurant was either grossly under-tipped or completely stiffed. The message is usually meant to shame the person who did not tip well and to promote awareness of the economic hardship that it causes. But, instead of fighting for people to tip more, we should be urging our state representatives to eliminate the tipped minimum wage and ensure that restaurants pay all of their workers livable wages.

We sorely need one fair wage for all working Americans. Despite conservative arguments that increases in wages cost jobs, cities like San Francisco that have eliminated the tipped minimum wage have actually seen positive job growth. In fact, raising the minimum wage can boost the wages for workers who earn more than the minimum wage, too. And, if a worker puts in a solid 40-hour workweek, shouldn’t she be able to afford the basic necessities to live?

Change can be unsettling, sure—but even more frightening, for tipped workers like me, is the thought of no change. We need to bridge the gap between those who are profiting in the food industry and their employees who are not, and fight for one fair wage.